


The Deaths of Stars

by TheSpear



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-05 03:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15855453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpear/pseuds/TheSpear
Summary: “So you have a kid,” rushed out of Jane’s mouth as soon as she appeared on screen. That was not what Darcy was expecting to hear on a Friday night.But apparently, her kid from god knows where andwhenfell through a wormhole and ended up in the Avengers’ laps.





	1. Skype

**Author's Note:**

> “It is the destiny of stars to collapse.”  
> \- Neil deGrasse Tyson.

Though it was a Friday night, Darcy had no plans. Well, she did have plans actually; it just did not include the social kind. She was lounging on the couch in her one-bedroom apartment, half a ton of left-over Ben & Jerry’s in her hand, and watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine. It was the perfect Friday night, if she did say so herself. She was just about to send a friend a quick text on how Rosa Diaz was everything she wanted to be in life, when she saw the texts from Jane.

They simply read:

WE NEED TO TALK

SKYPE SESSION NOW

DARCY IT’S IMPORTANT!

Yes, they were all in caps. Jane never used caps; she often in fact complained about the overuse of them. Not to mention she wanted to skype, and their skype sessions were sacred. Nay, _holy_. So Darcy dragged herself all the way to the front door, where she had dropped her bag immediately after coming home, and grabbed her laptop. Nerves were fluttering low in her belly as she conjured up doom scenarios. Endless doom scenarios of the epic proportions type. It was Jane after all.

Jane Foster was her former boss and friend. Currently, she was working and living in the New Avengers facility. Last time they talked, Jane and her other friend, Doctor Erik Selvig, had been onto something quote ‘big’. Darcy had figured it had something to do with the space-holes that allowed you to travel millions of light years in a second, but she often refrained from asking her brilliant friend as that tended to lead to science lectures. Darcy disliked lectures; she was happy to have finally finished college, thank you very much.

Still, after Jane and her went their separate ways, not too long after London, because creepy space elves is where she drew the line when it came to dying for Science!, they kept in touch. They had agreed on a monthly skype session to fill each other in on their lives. Jane often had a lot to tell; between living with the Avengers, working on something big, and being Thor’s girl, the stories tended to be endless. Her? Not so much. Though she had gotten a semi-interesting job, as interesting as jobs can be after travelling across the globe and fighting space-elves that is, she was less than satisfied. She often reminded herself that she chose this; she had turned down Jane’s offer to stick around and instead opted for a normal life.

She had just expected it to be different. Less boring.

Well, things were about to get more interesting it seemed. Their monthly skype sessions were always on the first Saturday of the month at 3PM, come rain or sunshine. They texted in between, but it wasn’t uncommon for Jane to go on a science-bender for multiple days in a row. Thus, a pre-scheduled time were they could sit down and have the time to talk was nice. These sessions were holy and Darcy often found herself looking forward to their Saturday; to have a nice cup of coffee and talk with her friend. It wasn’t the same as getting coffee together at the diner in New Mexico, or the small coffee shop in London they frequented when living there, but it was pretty damn close.

But they had had their monthly skype session already. Last week, in fact. There shouldn’t be anything new yet to say.

“So you have a kid,” rushed out of Jane’s mouth as soon as she appeared on screen. That was not what Darcy was expecting to hear on a Friday night.

But apparently, her kid from either the future or an alternate universe fell through a wormhole and ended up in the Avengers’ laps. Note to self, never complain about life being boring again because the bitch will show you boring. 

Jane had explained this red faced and out of breath, while avoiding Darcy’s gaze. She was, in fact, still rambling on. Darcy had yet to say a word.

“We have no idea where she came from. She just fell through a blue wormhole – Erik says it looked similar to the one Loki used when controlling the Tesseract. But we have no clue what it means.” Jane was steamrolling like a train, ignoring Darcy completely. A fascinating accomplishment as Darcy was intensely staring at her.

“She was scared, but not when she saw me. She called me Aunt Jane and just threw herself at me. She had a photo on her,” her speech halters and a soft smile appears on her face. “Of you and her – it was old and a bit faded, but adorable. I realized pretty quickly that she was yours, somehow. We debated about it all day. We theorized she might have time travelled or came from another universe? I know it sounds unbelievable but I truly think that she is yours, Darce. And seeing as you don’t have kid right now and I cannot remember being an aunt, that must be the explanation. It has to be.”

Darcy loved to talk and was often told she talked too much, but after that declaration she was at a loss for words. Thus, she gaped like a fish for a minute straight before finally deciding that laughing was the only appropriate response for a situation like this.

_Much, so much to process right now._

Her name being called by Jane, snapped her out of her appropriate laughing.

“Holy shit balls Jane, what do you want me to say? Are you sure? How is that even possible? And most importantly why the fuck did she fall through a wormhole?” The word diarrhea had started and wasn’t stopping anytime soon because without a breath she continued with:

“No, scratch that – most importantly, is she okay? Did she go through the wormhole intentionally? Like were bad, spooky guys after her or something? No, that makes absolutely no fucking sense because she is a little girl and harmless. But she was scared. She is little, right? You never actually said I’m just assuming. Oh god, is she a teenager? Please say no; I’m not ready to be a mom and I am certainly, certainly, not ready to deal with a teenager and –”

Her word-vomit is cut short by Jane aggressively waving her hands and calling her name to get her attention. And bless her, because she was running out of air. Still her ramblings had installed a million different fears and doom scenarios involving her kid in her head. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest and fear was pumping through her veins.

_Her daughter. Something must have happened. Normal people leading semi-interesting lives, don’t just fall through wormholes._

“Darce, take a deep breath, okay? She is okay now; she had a long day but she is sleeping now. I figured I owed it to you to tell you as soon as I was cleared to,” said Jane. So, Darcy tries to control her breathing. After a while she gives Jane what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

“Good,” continued Jane, matching Darcy’s smile with one of her own. “Now, if you want, you can come this way to see her. We are working on getting her home but we don’t know how long that will take. Maybe in the meantime you can take care of her? The Avengers aren’t the best babysitters,” she explained with a nervous laugh.

Darcy had a lot of questions, too many to function. Thus she just nodded and laughed nervously also. Because of course she could come take care of the daughter that she never actually gave birth to but somehow is still hers. Normal stuff, right?

“One more thing,” said Jane, now looking more nervous, even fiddling with her thumbs. Jane doesn’t fiddle; Darcy has never seen it before at least. Even when she was trying to find the tiny teeny mistake in one of her millions of equations. Even when faced with space-elves. Even when Thor is out on a dangerous long lasting mission. No fiddling and no nervousness, just a determination to push through. With this thought in mind, Darcy waits anxiously for Jane to continue; getting more and more freaked out the longer Jane seems to be gathering her courage to continue.

“Bucky Barnes is her father.” Jane deadpans.

Darcy once more concludes that the appropriate response is laughing.


	2. Portal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl looked up and something familiar flared inside of Jane as she looked into the kid’s eyes. The sobbing ceased and Jane could feel herself holding her breath, waiting for the child to speak. 
> 
> “Aunt Jane?” she asked softly and hopeful.
> 
> Not really what she was expecting to hear.

Jane Foster stumbled into the communal kitchen of the Avengers Facility one Friday morning. It was early and Jane was the epiphany of what one would call braindead before her first coffee. She had had a late night working with Erik on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge. According to their calculations they were well on their way to a new discovery, a feat that should have had Jane pumping with adrenaline, but instead that energy had been drained long ago, as last night was night number three of what Darcy would call a science-bender. Thus Thor had deemed it necessary to drag her from her beloved lab and sweet-talk her into her beloved bed. He did not need to bother too much; the sight of her bed alone had caused Jane to promptly pass out. Nevertheless, the promised land of science compelled her to rise early and embrace the day.

 

First, however, coffee was required.

 

The communal kitchen smelled like fresh baked bread and brewed coffee, and a hint of eggs; it was heavenly. It was definitely an occurrence Jane had gotten used to quickly when she first moved in. She had been hesitant to take the gig; moving in with her on and off again boyfriend and his superhero friends, who frequently were off to save the world, was softly put intimidating. Not to mention the occasional drama, _nay_ , tension between Earth’s mightiest heroes. So, when she first moved in she was very determined never to meddle, and never to include herself in said tension. She was just here for the incredible state of the art labs, the unlimited funds, and access to her sweet boyfriend.

 

Erik was already sitting at the kitchen island, steaming big brown coffee mug in hand. He wished her good morning as she walked by and she grunted back in acknowledgment. Coffee, first. Human interaction, second. After downing her first coffee, all the while still standing, she began to become aware of her surroundings. Nursing her second cup, and sipping this one more slowly to savour the taste, she planted herself next to Erik, at the far left side of the kitchen island. She noted that there were two others, besides Erik and herself, who had braced the day this early. Steve Rogers, probably ready for another day of training and grilling recruits, was lounging on the couch on the other side of the enormous room. Newspaper in hand, and some green beverage on the coffee table in front of him. Jane shuddered, it was probably either a vegetable smoothie or a protein drink. She knew that the resident super-humans were on some advanced diet to keep up with their massive calorie need, necessary due to both their enhanced biology and their extensive training; she couldn’t help it however that she found their food often disgusting and unnatural looking. Luckily for her Thor still liked to cook and she adored his cooking; she often noticed the Avengers giving her the stink-eye as she devoured Thor’s sweet creations in the kitchen. Whatever, she did not need to keep in the best physical shape of her life in order to save the world, and her metabolism had always been kind to her in keeping her slim. Thus she justified the occasional carb-loaded, sugar-loaded, all around unhealthy food. Plus, she knew that some of them often cheated on their diet too; they weren’t the saints they claimed to be.

 

Bruce Banner was sitting next to him, a plate of steaming scrambled eggs in his lap; he did not need to keep up with that crazy diet, nor the exercise regime, as the Hulk, it seemed, was physical fit enough on his own. He often joined her in enjoying Thor’s food. She figured he was up early to work on his own findings in his own labs. Jane liked Bruce; he was calm and collected, could keep up with her science talk, and was tipping more on the normal side of the crazy scale, like her she mused, compared to the Compounds’ other residents.

 

 

The smell of eggs compelled her to stand up and grab her own breakfast: Pop-Tarts. A habit she had not been able to kick and did not want to, thank you very much. Nutritious they were not, but delicious they certainly were. She would grab one of the protein smoothies to compensate later, she mentally told herself.

 

Just as she was about to grab the heavenly treat of the box, there was a bright blue light illuminating the entire room. There was a cry, and a thumping sound. She shielded her eyes with her arms, but the light died as quickly as it had appeared. It was silent for a beat. Then, another cry. Jane looked for the source of the commotion and found it quickly sitting in Steve’s lap. A child.

 

She looked beyond frightened and Steve looked beyond perplexed. He sat so very still Jane idly wondered if he had gone into shock. Then, she hurriedly climbed out of his lap and was against the glass wall, overlooking the training fields outside, in a beat. Whimpering and crying she crumbled into herself as the child made herself as small as humanly possible, shielding herself from the big room. And Jane’s heart broke. She was walking towards the child without even noticing, but Erik put his arm out to stop her.

 

It was so quiet except the little tiny sobs from the girl.

 

“She is just a child, Erik,” said Jane, determined to go and offer the child some kind of comfort. Was she possible a threat? Yes. Did Jane care? No.

 

“Jane, she just fell through a _wormhole_.”

 

Jane blinked. She had not seen that happen, but it hardly changed anything. In the moment she still wanted to console the child more than anything, even if a small part of her brain was intrigued about the science of it all.

 

“Dr. Foster, she could be enhanced,” said Steve Rogers. He was standing now, arms across his chest and taking in the child. Anger flared inside of her. It may be stupid and reckless but she did indeed consider that for a moment, thank you very much Captain America, only she decided to _ignore_ it.

 

 _Enhanced my ass; this is a little girl._ The girl hardly looked older than 5 years and they were treating her as if she were a bomb, when she was obviously very scared.

 

_Screw that._

 

So she passed Erik and even Bruce Banner, who had been relatively calm considering, something she silently thanked Frigga for. Steve went out to stop her, grabbing her upper arm in a warning. She grunted and then decided she could still speak to the kid, even if she could not reach her.

 

“Sweetie, are you okay?” She obviously was _not,_ but Jane was at a serious loss of what to ask someone who had just travelled through space and possibly even time.

 

The girl looked up and something familiar flared inside of Jane as she looked into the kid’s eyes. The sobbing ceased and Jane could feel herself holding her breath, waiting for the child to speak.

 

“Aunt Jane?” she asked softly and hopeful. Not really what she was expecting to hear. Jane’s eyes just widened, but before she could ponder the kid’s words, there was a possible enhanced five-year-old scared child hugging her legs.

 

The room was quiet once more but Jane found herself dropping to her knees and untangling the girl from her legs.

 

“Hey, hey,” she said, hoping her tone was somewhat soothing, even though her mind was reeling. “It’s okay,” she continued. Another little sob escaped her, but the girl was smiling now and hugged her so fiercely a moment later that Jane could not help but smile too.

 

* * *

The other residents of the Compound were awoken by FRIDAY while the kitchen’s occupants were still staring at the events unfolding. They did not appreciate being awoken so early, but FRIDAY quickly informed them of an unexplained energy breach in the kitchen and the potential threat level is possessed.

 

Whatever Bucky was expecting, it was not the situation that awaited him and the others in the kitchen. He had grabbed his nearest weapons, a knife sharp enough to cut bone, and made his way to the location. Once there, he took stock of the environment.

 

There was, it seemed, no threat. There _was_ a little kid hugging Doctor Jane Foster so tight she was turning a little blue, but Dr. Foster hardly seemed to mind. This observation however quickly reformed his earlier assessment: this child _could_ be a threat, if she possessed the strength to hug a grown woman so tightly. The girl had her head buried in Foster’s shoulder, her hair covering so Bucky could not make out her face.

 

Next to him, Stark, who was suited up, sighed heavily and exclaimed: “Okay, who thought it was necessary to have my very _necessary_ beauty sleep interrupted for a _kid?_ ” He then proceeded to glare at the ceiling, clearly demanding answer from his AI.

 

“Sir, the energy released was equivalent to documented occurrences of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge. Furthermore, I have identified the being that fell through the portal as an enhanced individual. Excuse me, _sir_ , for thinking you might like to know _,_ ” said FRIDAY

 

“Hate when they decide to develop sarcasm,” muttered Stark as a response. “Inform the rest of the team that the threat is minimal and that they can go back to sleep, will ya FRIDAY?”

 

“Certainly, sir.”

 

Bucky realized Stark was probably right; enhanced or not, this was a child and it was hardly necessary to add the other superhuman and human residents of the Compound to the mix.

 

“Thank you, Tony,” said Jane, who had been previously muttering reassurances into the child’s hair to soothe her; Bucky’s advanced hearing had picked up on the words. Her death-grip on Jane had loosened, as she had relaxed with every calming word. She obviously felt safe in the arms of the astrophysicist. She seemed in fact to have fallen asleep; Bucky presumed that the stressful situation, not to mention travelling through in space and time, was tiring for the girl.

 

“Explain, Foster,” said Tony grumpily, still irritated by the interruption of his very necessary beauty sleep, as the billionaire had put it himself.

 

* * *

 

Jane carefully shifted before placing the child on the couch, having realized herself that she had fallen asleep. Warmth bloomed in her chest at the realisation that the girl felt safe enough to fall asleep in her arms.

 

Standing over her like this, Jane finally gave herself the time to took in the child. Her hair was a deep chocolate brown; her fame was tiny and alarmingly screamed that she lacked proper nutrition; her clothing, a simple black t-shirt combined with jeans, was tattered and ripped and dirty; there was a smear of black dirt on her face and other various parts of her little body. Startled, Jane realized that the smears were soot. This girl could not possibly be a threat, Jane thought, she looks wounded.

 

“So thin,” Jane muttered to herself.

 

“Maybe we should have her checked out,” said Steve. Jane realized that he had shifted to stand next to her and was peering down at the kid. His face adorned a look of pity and Jane thanked her lucky stars that he apparently had seen sense.

 

“You know her Jane? She called you aunt,” said Bruce, finally having broken his silence. Jane looked at him and shrugged, before saying:

 

“No, but – ”

 

She didn’t know how to continue. The truth was, she came through an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, a structure that connects two points in spacetime. The problem? In theory it could connect anything; locations, across billions and billions of light years; time, and even universes. This child could have originated from _literally_ anywhere. A different time, a different universe. This could in fact very well be her niece or honorary nice at least. She had recognized her right away, had known her name. Jane’s mind was reeling with the endless amount of possible explanations and it was started to make her head hurt.

 

_Too little coffee._

She realized every occupant of the kitchen was looking at her. She sighed and tried to explain her dilemma to the rest of the room.

 

“Lemme get this straight, Foster, you saying we either have a Doctor Who on our hands or a universe hopper?” said Tony wide-eyed. Jane did not know it was a look he could master. He looked intrigued, like a new shiny toy just fell into his lap.

 

“Yeah or I could just look like someone she knows.” Even Jane herself didn’t believe that. Something eerie was going on here; she is this close to creating the Bridge and then all of a sudden a kid falls through the desired bridge, and knows her? Too much of a coincidence.

 

“Steve is right,” said Bucky Barnes, speaking for the first time while entering the room, having quietly assessed the situation before, “she should be looked at, she don’t look healthy; too thin”.

 

Jane sees him pocket a wicked looking knife and shifting his weight from one foot to the other,

as if he is suddenly very conscious that he actually spoke. But at his voice, the girl stirs and opens her eyes once more.

 

“Daddy?” she mutters, half lidded eyes looking up at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all you for your lovely comments and kudos! They fuelled me to continue; I now actually have an outline! This story will probably be around 10 chapters long and updated weekly. It's unbeta'd so bear with me and apologies for any mistakes. I changed the title of this story because I absolutely hated it; way too cheesy for my taste. This isn't much better but I was watching Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey and just had to do it. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	3. Doll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluff is here people.
> 
> P.s: I made myself listen to Perfect- Ed Sheeran and Beyonce- over and over again to make myself all mushy. It is recommended.

“What did you say, sweetie?” says Steve, as he lowers himself to kneel beside the couch. She visibly flinches at his proximity, but remains frozen otherwise. She stares at him with scared, wide eyes; like a deer caught by headlights.

 

“Steve, I know you mean well, but back off,” bites Jane. In that moment, Bucky sees the tiny astrophysicist in a new light; fiercely and scarily protective of the people she cares about. It is a good thing that she says it though, because the little thing does not seem to be breathing. Steve stands and moves away. The girl lets out a ragged breath before sitting up and staring right at _him_.

 

“Daddy?” she tries again.

 

Bucky forgets to breathe too.

 

She is off the couch before his brain can process any of it, and she _jumps_ right in his arms. He catches her in time under her arms and holds her like a doll, a foot away from his body. She squirms but he is too busy taking in every detail of her to notice, because _fucking hell; she looks like his baby sister._ He sees it up close more clearly; the same freckles on her nose, though partly hidden beneath the soot; her long wimpers the same deep brown colour; the same shape of the eyes. It’s almost like looking at a picture. But she is paler; her eyes are a deep green instead of caramel brown; the shape of her face is rounder. It’s the little things.  

 

 _Fuck_ , he thinks. What did Dr. Foster just say? She could be from anywhere. _Fuck_ , he is not stable enough for this. After all the shit he has been through, how the hell can he be anybody’s dad? He used to want this, before the war. A pretty wife, a bunch of kids – say five – a nice house in Brooklyn. A dog, maybe? Now? He has good days, yeah, but there are days where he cannot even _talk_. He is a mess and probably always will be.

 

He feels her tiny hand touch his cheek.

 

“Daddy it’s me, Emma,” she says softly. She has stopped squirming, he notices.

 

“Hey,” he says hoarsely.

 

Hand still on cheek, she asks: “did you have an episode?” He lets out a ragged breath, because apparently wherever she came from, he is a mess there too. He nods slowly and moves to put her down but she softly asks for a hug. Surprising probably everyone in the room and himself, he complies.

 

Her hands are around his neck, her chin resting on his shoulder, and her little feet wrapped around him. He hugs her back; one hand cradling the back of her head, his metal arm around her tiny frame, holding her to him. Her breathing eases out and he knows she has fallen asleep once more.

 

It is very, _very_ , quiet in the kitchen. Even Tony Stark does not know what to say. He coughs and directs his attention to Jane Foster, his new ally in this situation.

 

“Let’s get her to medical,” Bucky says. She nods and follows him out the kitchen, leaving the rest of the perplexed occupants behind.

* * *

 

 

Bucky is worried. Dr. Foster – “Call me Jane, please” – is sitting next to him on one of the plastic chairs of the small waiting room. Steve had come by because he was worried about Bucky. He always is. Bucky had told him that he was fine, adding an: “I’m sure, _punk_ ,” at the end to really get the message across. That had been an hour ago. What the hell could be taking so long?

 

Just then a door opens and out comes Dr. Helen Cho, the resistant doctor on sight, because these dumbasses tend to sustain a lot of injuries while out in the field.

 

She nods at him and Jane, and says: “Sergeant Barnes, Jane – she is fine,” and he lets out a deep sigh and slugs further into the chair.

 

“She is a little dehydrated and she inhaled some smoke, but any injury she might have sustained has already healed.” The serum, he thinks.

 

She hesitates a beat and looks solely at him when she says: “Tony insisted on a DNA test, we’ll have the results in about an hour. You can go see her now; she is awake.”

* * *

 “You’re strong,” says Pepper, when she comes by to gift Emma a doll, “what’s your name, honey?” Emma smiles shyly at Pepper, clearly pleased with the compliment. It is a vast improvement from her reaction to Steve, Bucky notices grimly. He saves the knowledge for later.

 

“Emma Jane Barnes, ma’am,” and she holds out her tiny hand for Pepper to shake. She has _manners_ and he actually catches himself grinning proudly. Jane beams next to him, because Emma is apparently named after her.  

* * *

 

The results come back positive for him, not for Jane. She shrugs and says: “I could still be her aunt, just maybe not her biological one,” and returns to Emma’s room to play with her and the doll Pepper had brought by.

 

His mind is reeling now that it is official. As fucked up as it may be, he was hoping that it was true. The hour he had spent with her had been one of the happiest hours of his life, post-Hydra. Maybe even of his whole life, period. No one deserves a father like him and yet her she is and she clearly _loves_ him. He is too selfish to not want that.

 

Around Jane and him, Emma becomes animated and full of life, the way a young girl ought to be all the time. She seems content to be here, unaware that he is not _her_ real dad and Jane is not _her_ real aunt.

 

While in the waiting room, Sam had visited him and Jane too. Steve had caught him up on the situation and he came bearing some advice.

 

“Don’t contradict her – if she calls you dad, try to let her. She is in a fragile state of mind; it is clear she has been through something. She wouldn’t understand anyway; she is too young.” He is happy he hadn’t contradicted her right away when she had run his way in the kitchen. He thinks of the emotional damage that might have inflicted on her and contains a shudder.

 

He would protect her, he had decided right in that moment, from anyone and anything. 

* * *

 

 

 “Is mommy here too?” she asks while holding the doll upside down and sliding miniature heels on its feet. She is sitting upright in her hospital bed. Her tattered clothes are gone; she is wearing scrubs now.

 

Jane looks at Bucky and Bucky looks at Jane. They cannot ask her who her mother is, as they cannot let her know that they aren’t who Emma thinks they are.

 

“No,” replies Jane.

 

“Will she be coming?” she asks, her eyes now trained on them.

 

They are rescued by the door sliding open. Emma tenses for a second but then sees Pepper and relaxes again. Pepper has a way of making anyone feel comfortable around her; Bucky knows this from experience. Pepper holds up a brown bag as an explanation.

 

“I realized that these might be more comfortable,” she says, and she pulls a matching purple pyjama top and pants out of the bag. Emma beams brightly, giggles, and exclaims that she loves the butterfly patterns on the pyjamas. Bucky’s heart grows twice the size.

 

Pepper gives the bag to Jane and moves to grab the old clothes to wash; she intends to leave the room to give them some privacy. Only, she notices something sticking out of the back pocket of the jeans.

 

“Is this your mommy, sweetie?” She holds up a wrinkled photo of Emma and a gorgeous woman. Emma nods fiercely.

 

Jane’s breath hitches slightly next to him. She leans towards him to whisper: “I know her; that’s Darcy.”

 

* * *

 

He is alone with Emma in his apartment. It is night and she had been released from the mini-hospital two hours ago. Jane had left to call her friend Darcy – Emma’s _mother._ The mother of _his_ child. Only, she isn’t really. God this is a mess.

 

He cannot get himself to care, however. Not when Emma, clad in her purple butterfly pyjamas, is currently snuggled into his side. His right arm is placed around her. (She isn’t scared of his metal arm at all, but he is not comfortable placing that weapon around her tiny frame.)

 

They are watching some cartoon – “It’s Moana, daddy!” – while sitting on the couch. He feels so goddamn peaceful and happy it scares him. It’s like a dream.

 

He told FRIDAY to tell everyone not to disturb them; Emma needed to be left alone. She had acted like a champ the entire day after the kitchen incident. God knows what she had been through to arrive like she did; it is the one thing on his mind that dampers his happiness. She is safe now though, he tells himself; the compound is the safest place there is. It’s protected by the goddamn Avengers.

 

She probably should go to sleep soon but she seems too giddy now, singing along to an upbeat song; he doesn’t have the heart to stop her. She clearly knows this movie well, as she can sing along every word of the song. Still, she gaps at ‘shocking’ moments as if seeing it for the first time. Bucky thinks it’s goddamn adorable. He should probably not say that out loud. He should also probably not _curse_ around her. That might actually be tough; he tends to swear like a sailor.

 

Jane comes in halfway through the movie – Moana has just escaped out of that underwater world she was in. Bucky pauses the movie and Emma protests right away with a loud: “Hey!”

 

Bucky fixes her with a glare, thinking heavily of his mother and hoping he can channel her essence. She huffs, crosses her arm, but she stays quiet. _That’s a win right?_

“Your mother is coming, sweetie!” says Jane. Emma shrieks loudly in his right ear, jumps up and hugs Jane tightly saying thank you, thank you, thank you over and over again. Jane’s eyes are a little watery. She hugs her back too, though more carefully, mindful of the state they found her in, kisses her hair and mutters “it’s nothing” in her ear.

 

Emma has a short bath. She is even more giddy now as she plays with the bubbles. Bucky is unaware of how his heart is able to take the adorableness. He puts her to rest in his bed – he will sleep on the couch, too afraid of crushing her tiny frame with his giant one – places a kiss on her hair and mutters to her that her mother will be her sooner if she sleeps. She is out like a light right away.

 

When he moves to the living room, Jane is still there. What a goddamn day, he thinks, his heart light.

 

“I gave her your file,” she says.

 

Bucky’s dream shatters just like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gave myself a tooth-ache with this chapter but mugged it up with the last two sentences. Oops? In all honestly, this was so amazingly fun to write. However, after this one the updates will most likely be less frequent. Your kudos and comments were lovely people, thank you.
> 
> Next up: Darcy arrives at the compound and Bucky is instantly smitten.


	4. Lavender

“Miss Lewis, welcome. My name is Pepper Potts,” says freaking _Pepper Pots_ as she greets Darcy at the entrance of the compound. She wears a seemingly casual outfit; her light blue jeans and t-shirt are a far cry from the power suits she often adorns in the interviews Darcy likes to watch. For a passing moment Darcy wonders if it is a way to make her feel more comfortable, because it does have that effect. The whole situation is surreal and overwhelming; as she stands here now, in front of this massive building that houses _literal_ superheroes, she feels small. Ridiculously small.

 

“Hi,” she squeaks. God, how embarrassing. She coughs and continues with: “It’s just Darcy and thank you. It’s nice to meet you,” and holds out her hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you, too. And Pepper, please.” Darcy holds in her squeak this time.

 

Pepper gestures with her right hand to follow her inside. Darcy moves to get her luggage but the driver who had picked her up from the airport is already carrying it inside. It’s nice but now she has nothing in her hands to stop herself from fidgeting.

 

Forking hell, she is so nervous.

* * *

 

 

He is gorgeous and sad. Seriously, he looks like someone kicked his puppy. Jane had told her that he was freaking fucking adorable with his daughter and that he had not been able to stop smiling in her presence. That was apparently eerie – “I have _never_ seen him smile, Darcy.” – but it had made Darcy’s heart feel light. Now, however, there is not a smile in sight.

 

She fidgets, but is resolved to make this work. She had not read his file; she doesn’t like to judge people based on their past. She knew that was a bit naïve but honestly she had no right to read such personal information about a man she has never met. Plus, Thor spoke highly of him and that was all the approval she needed to know he was good guy. She knew his history of course, everyone did. It had been quite the story when Captain America’s BFF had risen from the dead. There had been a trial, a very public one, and he had won. After that James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes had removed himself from the public, only appearing out on missions with his fellow Avengers to kick ass.

 

“Darcy, this is Bucky Barnes,” says Jane. Bless her for being here, thinks Darcy. Darcy smiles brightly, hopeful it will make the puppy-kicking look disappear. This guy is her _baby daddy_ for the foreseeable future; she has got to make it work.

 

“Hi, I’m Darcy,” she says, voice _not_ wavering _._ She offers a little wave, very unsure of the proper etiquette in this situation. Shaking his hand seems too formal. Does she hug him? No, better not; she does not know how comfortable he is with intimacy. Moreover, his rigid appearance does not scream cuddly. He coughs and nods at her. Not a talker, she notes.

 

“Let’s go meet Emma,” says Jane. She had told Darcy as much as she knew about the situation. She had been warned not to contradict the girl, as they were unsure of the ordeal she had been through and they wanted to create a safe environment for her where she would feel at ease.

 

“Act as much as her mother as you can. I know it seems daunting, but she is a sweet girl; easy to love,” Jane laughs fondly. Darcy swallows nervously. Yeah, that is exactly what she is afraid of.

* * *

 

The first thing Darcy sees as they exit the elevator is the _giant enormous_ play castle. It is bright pink in colour, it easily reaches her chest in height, and there some to be a million towers attached to the thing. The elevator dings as the doors close behind them. Time to channel her inner mama bear as never before, Darcy thinks.

 

An excited shrieks comes from somewhere behind the castle. A girl jumps up from behind, doll in hand, though she drops that instantly, and races towards her. Shockingly, Darcy is prepared and catches her. She hugs Emma tightly. To her alarm however, Emma starts to sob.

 

_Shit, shit, shit what did she do wrong?_

“Sweetheart,” she shushes in a soothing tone, “it’s okay I’m here.”

 

Is that the right thing to say? Apparently not, as the sobbing does not cease, and Darcy is getting more and more anxious by the minute. She had hoped that this would feel natural but it doesn’t; it feels foreign and overwhelming and so incredibly nerve wrecking. She pets Emma’s hair, much like she would a dog, in the hopes that it will calm her down. No such luck. She fears she is already at her wits end.

 

“Emma, doll, what is wrong?”

 

Darcy jumps slightly, she had forgotten about Bucky and Jane. Fuck, they witnessed her failing at this too. At her father’s words however, Emma hugs her even more tightly if that is even possible; it knocks the air right out of her lungs. God this kid is strong.

 

She has one last card up her sleeve; a song her mother used to croon if she was feeling sad. It brings back the fondest of memories and maybe, _maybe_ , other-Darcy had tried this trick to soothe her child as well. So, Darcy hums softly in Emma’s hair.

 

_Lavender’s Blue, dilly, dilly_

_Lavender’s green,_

_When I am king, dilly, dilly_

_You shall be queen._

 

The first couplet is enough it seems; Emma’s death grip on her mother loosens, the crying ceases, but Darcy continues humming the song softly to her anyway. To her utter amazement, Emma softly starts to sing along hallway through the second couplet. She moves her head from Darcy’s shoulder to her chest, listening to her mother’s heartbeat as she hums the last words. Fondly, Darcy kisses her hair.

 

“Love you, mommy,” she whispers softly against her chest.

* * *

 

It is just the three of them now in Bucky’s apartment. A place, she noticed in brief passing, that was sparsely decorated. Sure there was enough basic furniture, but nothing personal. Maybe she should change that, she muses, before squashing that thought like a bug.

 

_I must not get attached_.

 

It was the one rule she had come up with to save herself bucket loads of pain when the inevitable happened and Emma would return home. After all, she would pick up and leave after that; to return to her mundane life in D.C working in public relations. But not getting attached proved to be a challenge already. It seemed Emma had already wormed her way in her heart.

 

Take this moment for instance, where Emma is fast asleep and sprawled partly on her lap. Her long brown hair – much alike to Darcy’s own-  are spiralled around her head in soft curls. Her tiny legs and feet are in her father’s lap, who is sitting quite close to Darcy. She cannot help but notice this, as he radiates heat. So she might be slightly attracted to him, sue her. Like she had said before, he is gorgeous. His hair is long, but not shoulder- long, and it looks dear she say _luscious_. His skin is glowy and his pout is, well, incredible. And that’s just his face. She could probably write a whole damn novel about the rest of his body and all its glory. She was an appreciator of fine art, _sue her._

 

Appreciating him did not mean she was getting _attached_ , however. There is a difference, you see. At least that is what she tells herself.

 

To break the comfortable silence, Darcy asks: “Should we put her down for a nap, maybe?”

 

“Yeah,” he drawls, voice a bit rough due to the lack of use. His voice is damn sexy too, had she mentioned that already?

 

He rises and carefully picks Emma up to cradle her against himself, moving her to his bedroom. So damn cute.

 

_Wow, wouldn’t you know it, her ovaries think so too. Down, ladies._

She moves to follow him to the bedroom. Apparently, he is not willing to interrupt Emma’s slumber to change into her pyjamas. He points to a pile of folded clothes on the chair next to the closet. He still does not talk much, but she gets the message. She helps him change Emma; the kid never wakes, obviously still exhausted and, dare she hope, feeling safe in the presence of her parents.

* * *

 

 

They return to the living room, but the atmosphere fills different now. Previously, Emma’s giggles and chatter had filled the room. Even Emma’s soft snoring seemed to have had a calming effect on both of them. Now, however, there seems to be _tension._

 

Like she had said, he did not talk much. At least not to _her._ He seemed more at ease talking to Emma. In fact, he talked rather freely with her. She idly wondered if it had something to do with her. Maybe she was not what he pictured as the mother of his child. Maybe he was dissatisfied with the way she acted in the common room earlier. She had been overwhelmed though, so screw that. She was actually getting a little angry now, even though she was not sure that was what he was thinking. Should she say something about it?

 

“So you read my file?”

 

She coughs, shaken out of her angry rambling thoughts. _Idiot,_ she thinks at herself.

 

“Uh, no, actually.” That seems to surprise him. He is not the easiest guy to read but, yeah, that is clearly surprise written across his face. Thus she feels the need to elaborate: “I mean, I felt it wasn’t really my place and I sorta know the basics of your story already – you know everyone does. Uhm, yeah.” She finishes awkwardly. Whelp, she tried.

 

He nods at that and then it happens: the tiniest of smiles appears on his face. She cannot help but beam brightly in return.

 

* * *

 

_“Promise me you’ll take care of her, punk.”_

_“Yeah, Buck, you know I will.”_

_“No, Steve,” says Bucky, not satisfied with Steve’s response, “you don’t understand.”_

_His right hand moves from its position around Darcy’s waist to the front of her stomach, sliding under her oversized sweater to expose her stomach._

_“Promise me you’ll take care of_ them _,” his hand now on the firm curve of her belly._

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cinderella version of 'Lavender's blue' is one I absolutely adore. You know how I said I would update less frequently? That strangely hasn't happened yet. Anyway thank you, as always!, for your amazingly lovely responses. Yeah, I cannot describe in words how much they all mean to me. 
> 
> I know there was very little plot in these last chapters but, well, we are getting to it. (that little snippet on the end, huh) 
> 
> Preview for next time: 
> 
> 'The first time he sees her he can barely speak. All he can think is: well, fuck me she is gorgeous'


	5. Relationship

Darcy uses the time while Emma is napping to start unpacking. She has been placed in a free apartment, a floor below Bucky’s apartment. The furniture is already present; everything perfectly colour matched in hues of light blue and brown. It is certainly prettier than her own apartment. It lacks that homey feeling, though; much like Bucky’s apartment did. Here, however, she is can change that.

 

One of the rooms is clearly meant for Emma; the walls are a pastel green, and impressive colourful butterflies in all varieties have been drawn on the wall. When Darcy looks in the closet, she sees a collection of new clothes for the kid. Shirts, jeans, skirts, and dresses are all present in a spectrum of colours, clearly meant to appeal to whatever taste Emma might have.

 

Darcy sighs as she runs her hands along one particular gorgeous purple dress. How long will Emma be here, she wonders. Jane is a genius, she knows, who is working together on the origin of the portal with other geniuses. Thus she figures it shouldn’t take long at all. Which might be for the better, because this could get messy. Darcy knows she loves easily and deeply; this little girl has the potential to shatter her heart beyond recognition. Not to mention her father.

 

Speaking of, she and her baby daddy should probably have an adult conversation about this childrearing business. You see, in all honesty, when Jane asked her to come, Darcy figured she would be doing most of this alone. That thought, however, flew out the window the moment she watched Bucky interact with Emma; he is clearly going to be present for most, if not all of it. So she figures they should probably talk about co-parenting. Not that Darcy _knows_ anything about parenting.

 

God, fuck her; she is so over her head here.

 

* * *

Making her way back to Bucky’s apartment to maybe, possibly, start that adult conversation, she runs into Steve Rogers. She was already nervous about the upcoming talk. Twirling her hair, biting her lower lip. This was honestly not the best time to meet freaking Captain America.

 

He is pacing in front of the doorway, clearly hesitating about something. She thinks about turning around and pretending she never saw him. But she doesn’t. She coughs to get his attention – which seriously didn’t he have superpowers? How did he not hear her?

 

He is startled – _Huh,_ guess he actually didn’t hear her coming – but that vanishes right away as his posture straightens and he suddenly looks exactly like in her history book pictures. He sees her and his eyes widen a bit.

 

“You must be – ”

 

“Darcy Lewis,” she introduces while giving out her hand for him to shake.

 

“Steve Rogers,” he says. She smiles slightly him, fighting the urge to say that she knows that; that _everyone_ knows that. She kinda wants to make a good impression here.

 

“So, you going in?” she asks.

 

“Uh, well, I just wanted to talk to Buck, but I don’t wanna make Emma uncomfortable.”

 

“Uncomfortable? Why would you –”

 

The door opens and out comes Bucky, interrupting her. He is freshly showered, she realizes, as his long hair is still dripping wet. He is fully clothed though, which, thank Thor for that. Still, in this clean and _tight_ new t-shirt he looks positively _yummy_. She mentally kicks herself at that.

 

He nods at both of them. Face hard and showing no emotion, he then says to her: “Emma is still sleeping.”

 

Yeah, she figured, that is why she came down earlier. But something about his tone makes her suddenly feel stupid and like an intruder, which is - woah so not like her. She had thought that they had bonded a little, earlier. Clearly she had been wrong.

 

Thus, feeling a little hurt she says: “Okay, I can come back later.” She tries to sound like nothing is wrong, honestly she does, but some of her feelings must have been noticeable in her voice, for his face softens a tiny bit.

 

“No, no,” he hurriedly says, “you can come in.” He gestures for her to enter the apartment.

 

“I’ll just be a moment, doll. I’ve gotta discuss somethin’ with Steve,” he says, as he shuts the door behind her. Her face burns a little at this words. Luckily, he cannot see that.

* * *

 

Turns out it is not just a moment, for half an hour has passed and he has yet to return. Darcy has made herself quite comfortable on his couch in the meantime; she is happily reading a book on her phone.

 

She hears a soft thump sound and a few beats later, a sleepy looking Emma opens the door of Bucky’s bedroom. Emma spots her, smiles brightly, and makes her way over to curl up in her lap. She barely weighs a thing, Darcy notices with growing concern, as Emma places her head on her chest.

 

“Mommy,” she sighs, and Emma is out like a light again. Tears are forming in her eyes because she realizes something. This kid is actually her daughter and she might already love her. To contain the overload of feelings that suddenly are consuming her, she tries to calm herself down by stroking Emma’s hair.

 

That is how Bucky finds them half an hour later; Emma sleeping curled up against her mother, said mother with her cheek pressed against her tiny head and eyes closed. He comes in so quietly Emma’s breathing is louder than his movements. Still somehow Darcy knows he is there and looks up to meet his eye. He is standing in front of the door, staring at them with a soft look on his face. If she is not mistaken, his breath hitches a little the moment their eyes meet.

 

Emma stirs slightly in her arms and is awake again a second later. She seems to quickly assess the room, eyes going from corner to corner, before she spots her father and settles back down against her mother.

 

“Hi daddy,” she sighs, still sleepily. He smiles so brilliantly at that. She can see he wants to move closer, probably touch or hug his daughter, but he seems to be restraining himself. Probably for her benefit she realizes. They are virtually strangers after all; they only met this morning. Yet it still feels like they have known each other longer. It is a weird type of connection they share, she muses. Or maybe it is nothing at all; maybe they are simply bonded by this child and that is all there is.

 

Either way, she nods at him to signal that she is comfortable with him moving closer. He is at their side in a heartbeat; sitting next to her, pulling Emma slightly in his lap, too, and kissing her cheek.

 

“Hey princess”.

 

She smiles, staring at her father expectantly. They are probably missing something here, for a moment later that smile turns into a frown at her father’s lack of response.

 

“What’s wrong, honey,” Bucky says.

 

“You didn’t kiss mommy hello,” she says, “you always do that.”

 

* * *

 

They should have talked, is all she can think. They definitely should have talked. Maybe this would have occurred to them then. Because they were essentially _playing_ Emma’s real parents. And those said real parents were apparentl _y_ a couple very much in _love_. God, how could they have forgotten that?

 

Darcy stares at the other three occupants of common room. Bucky is pacing from corner to corner, hands folded in front of half his face. Captain America is staring intensely ahead of him. Sam Wilson, the Falcon, is the only one sitting down; he is looking as cool as a cucumber. She doesn’t know how exactly after what he just told them.

 

“You saying we have to fake being in a _relationship_?” she finally shrieks. She has had it with the silent of doom that has been looming in this room.

 

He has the audacity to smirk! at her.

 

“Yeah,” he says clearly amused, “but just around Emma. Your kid.” He leans slightly forward at that last statement and says: “Honestly, you have been pretending to be her parents all day. This shouldn’t be that much harder.”

 

Okay, he might have a point there. Except, well, she is kinda attracted to the guy, and she really doesn’t want to act on it. See: heartbreak. See: they have to properly raise a child together for the foreseeable future, even if that future is a few weeks, tops – Jane gave her an update on the progress of their research when she brought Emma down to the labs – and pretending they are in a relationship on top of the childrearing thing might fuck with her mind too much and she might start thinking stupid things like that this is perfect. And all she wants.

 

She. Is. So. _Screwed._

 

She doesn’t voice that thought, though. No sir. Because she knows Wilson is right. She is an adult and this little girl needs them.

 

“Guess you’re right,” she says with a shrug. That looked casual right? Not like she had been overthinking her whole existence?

 

She feels Bucky intensely staring at her a beat later. He had retreated back into his shelf after Emma’s words. He had stammered out an excuse, and he hadn’t said a word since. Suddenly, Darcy realizes that this might make him uncomfortable too. She ain’t blind, the man is clearly working through some issues. This whole ordeal might all be too much for him to handle. Maybe she should revisit her earlier thought of taking care of Emma alone.

 

“If it’s too much,” she treads carefully, “I could take care of her alone.”

 

Bucky is in front of her in a flash, staring down at her, his face even more intense op close. He looks angry too. Really angry, she notices grimly. He still doesn’t speak but she gets the message.

 

She might have crossed a line here she cannot come back from. Any trust that might have formed between them suddenly vanishes at her stupid thought. She stammers at an apology, while never breaking his intense gaze. His face softens a little and he nods at her.

 

The emotions of the day catch up with her, as a tear escapes her eye. He catches it with his right hand. It’s warm she duly notices. He is still stroking her cheek tenderly, when he leans down a little to say: “We’ll be alright, doll.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehehehehe. So as you might have guessed from the last bit of this chapter, I will be introducing another popular trope: the fake relationship. This chapter took a little longer and I struggled quite a bit with it so I really hope it is to your liking. Also, I know I mentioned that you guys would get Bucky's POV but he honestly wasn't cooperating. Thus, more of Darcy's POV. Do not worry! You will get this side of things soon!
> 
> All of you guys are super awesome and I adore you, thank you for the kudos and comments and bookmark; you response has been honestly so amazingly overwhelming.


	6. Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Bucky’s point of view.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” says Bucky at the sight of his daughter.

 

Emma stumbles into the kitchen area, sleepily rubbing her eyes. She makes a low grunt-like noise supposing to resemble a response to her father, who is hunched over the kitchen counter shoving a steaming plate of scrambled eggs into his mouth. Bucky hasn’t had anything this delicious for a while, living mostly on various pre-described protein shakes and bars to keep up with his metabolism. Yet he cannot seem to savor it; choosing instead to eat all quickly, afraid someone will steal it away. Darcy’s cooking is divine; Bucky had to fight down a moan when he had the first bite.

 

Emma climbs her way up the chair right next to him, letting out an exaggerated sigh as she reaches her destination. Her hair is a mess; curls wildly sticking in the air. It’s adorable and Bucky cannot help but ruffle her hair a little. Frowning, she swats his hand.  

 

“Nooooo,” she whines. Bucky grins at that.

 

Darcy, who is preparing another batch of eggs at the stove, chuckles slightly. She is still dressed in her sleep attire: an oversized t-shirt and tiny shorts. When she exited her bedroom this morning looking like she did, gorgeous and grumpy as hell, it had made his stomach turn a little. In what universe did Bucky get so lucky as to deserve her?

 

Darcy turns around, placing a plate with the eggs and a piece of toast in front of her daughter.

 

“Eat up, baby,” she says, holding the fork out to Emma as a piece offering. A grunt of acknowledgement and then Emma is shoving the food into her mouth in the same manner as her father. Though, Bucky is ignorant of this, having gone back to eating himself; he probably ogled Darcy enough for this morning anyway.  That is until Darcy coughs and makes him aware with a pointing, displeased, look in Emma’s direction. 

 

Right, Bucky thinks, he should be a good example. Not stuffing his face like a caveman. He straightens his back and starts to eat more slowly. He receives a warm smile from Darcy at that. A beautiful smile that stirs an aching feeling in his stomach. Bucky’s been lonely, he knows. Starved for the most basic of human interactions: a smile. He had never realized the full extent of his loneliness until Emma, and consequently Darcy, showed up in his life less than three days ago.

 

“Eat a little slower, Emma,” says Darcy, before gesturing in his direction and adding, “Like your dad.” Bucky sits picture perfect straight at that.

 

“He don’t eat like that,” Emma quips back. She barely chews now as she swallows a big piece of toast.

 

“Doesn’t matter. _You_ should eat like that,” Darcy responds in a stern voice.

 

“Why?” 

 

“It’s unhealthy. The food could get stuck in your throat.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes at that. Darcy open her mouth to retaliate, but Bucky beats her to it.

 

“Emma, show your ma some respect and listen to her. She wants what’s best for ya.”

 

“Fine!” she responds with great feeling. Only to start taking sarcastically slow bites of her food. Eh, it’s progress, Bucky supposes. At least this is not a choking hazard.

 

Darcy looks far from pleased, though. Her mouth is set in a strange line and her eyes are slightly narrowed, as if she has just swallowed something sour. But then she visibly seems to shake herself and makes her way over to the coffee machine. He sees her pour a fucking _ridiculous_ amount of sugar in a mug before adding the coffee. Darcy turns back around, mug in hand and takes a sip. A moan escapes her full lips after her first sip. He feels himself turn a little red at the sound.

 

“Want sum?” Darcy offers, ignorant to his thoughts.

 

“No thanks, doll.” Bucky avoids her eyes by awkwardly gesturing at the protein shake in front of him. But when he looks back at Darcy, she is looking a little flushed too.

 

_Interesting._

 

Bucky grins at her, fully, even showing some teeth.

 

“You ass – ” she flushes a little deeper at her mistake, “- _ked_ for anything else, _Sarge_?” She bats her eyelashes at him in exaggerated manner.

 

He should be able to hide his reaction to his former title. Yet, her shit eating grin tells him that she somehow still knows that it gets his motor running a little. How did she – fucking hell, did she talk to Steve about him? Goddamn this woman; she is a spitfire.

 

“Gross.” Emma interrupts. But the small smile on her face tells Bucky that she is secretly happy. Relieved perhaps.

 

“Watch it,” Bucky says playfully. He ruffles her hair again for good measure. She doesn’t bat him away this time.

 

* * *

 

 The three of them spend the day exploring the compound. In the morning, they visit Jane’s lab at Emma’s request. She giddily asks Jane about _every single one_ of her machines. Bucky hears the phrase ‘What’s that do?” about a billion times while they are down there. He is man enough to admit that he himself listens just as attentively to Jane’s explanations.

 

Darcy hip-bumps him slightly, drawing him out of the science daze. She smirks at his lost expression before beckoning him over to a different corner of the lab.

 

“Science nerd, huh?”

 

There are many things Bucky is ashamed of. He murdered God knows how many people in cold blood, after all. But this happens to be one of the few things he isn’t ashamed of.

 

“Yes.”

 

Darcy smiles fondly in Emma’s direction. “Guess she gets it from you then. God knows it that shit is beyond me.”

 

“I doubt that,” he says sincerely. Bucky already knows she’s smart, got her head screwed on right. He refuses to believe that science is too difficult for her. She was Foster’s intern after all.

 

Darcy rolls her eyes good-heartedly. “I’m not saying it’s too hard for me – which it is FYI. I’m saying it’s never really interested me.” She shrugs, “Besides, I’m more of a tech kind of a gal. Computers, coding, that’s my shit.”

 

Bucky frowns slightly; he thought that her line of work was different.

 

“Aren’t you working at –”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, almost trying to wave away his question with her hands. “Girl’s gotta eat, you know.”

 

Bucky opens his mouth to respond, but she is already talking again.

 

“I mean sure,” Darcy says, “there is enough work in ICT, but it’s more like a hobby. A sport if you will. Trying to break into the framework of big evil corporations, find out all their dirty laundry. Is fun.”

 

She is grinning now, clearly thinking about something in particular. He snorts in response. This woman is something else, he thinks. Ridiculously cute with her oversized sweaters, and glasses, yet she is not to be underestimated. She’s got moxie; his kryptonite when it comes to dames. Bucky shouldn’t be surprised that the mother of his child is his type, yet he still somehow is.

 

“You’re somethin’ else, doll,” he wonders out loud. Bucky turns promptly mortified at his uncensored declaration. Goddamn, where did his filter go?

 

“Yeah, well.”

 

Her tone is off and she is blushing now. Suddenly he remembers this morning and he grins at the memory. So, Bucky cannot help but crowd her space a little, as he teasingly says: “That word really gets you goin’ huh?”

 

She flushes ever further, if that were possible.

 

“Shove it, Sarge,” and she slaps his chest lightly. Still red, but sporting her own grin she says: “Two can play this game.”

 

They are standing really close, Bucky notices. He can see the light freckles on her nose; the hints of blue in her green eyes; her long eyelashes.

 

A loud groan has them jumping apart.

 

“Not agaaaaaaaaaaain,” whines their daughter.

 

* * *

They have lunch in the common area. After everyone has left, that is. Bucky is munching incredibly slow –for him, he realizes, normal for nonsupersoldiers – on an avocado wrap. He had wanted tuna, a staple food at the compound because of the easiness of the canned variety, but Darcy had slapped his hand away.

 

“No. Are you…?  Are you pouting? Seriously, dude?” Darcy had asked.

 

He might have been.

 

“Listen mister, this is a mercury containing food; I don’t want Emma eating that. And I already saw her eyeing it so if you’re gonna eat it, then she is gonna want to eat it. So no.”

 

Her eyes told him that there was absolutely no arguing. She grabbed the tin from his hands and placed it back at the far end of the fridge. A second later he was holding a fresh avocado in his hands.

 

“Here, these are _health_ y fats.”

 

“I don’t know what to do with this,” Bucky responded. He truly didn’t; avocados weren’t around when he was little. And if they were, his family could definitely not afford it.

 

She had rolled eyes at him, again, before teasingly adding, “Hopeless. I’ll do it. We’ll get you some hummus, too.”

 

Hence, the avocado wrap. It is good. Bucky would be damned if he said that though; Darcy already looks too damn smug. She keeps giving him knowing glances.

Emma is enjoying it, too, by the looks of it; her smile is wide and bountiful. She asks for seconds, and Darcy’s whole face lights up.

 

“Oh! Before I forget,” Darcy says while grabbing something from the fridge, “Drink this, baby. Dr. Cho said that you should drink one every day.” She places a familiar smoothie in front of Emma; only this one is a dark chocolate color. 

 

“Why?” Emma asks.

 

“For your metabolism.”

 

“What?”

 

“No arguing. You drinking it; it’s chocolateeeee.” Darcy coaxes. This seems to do the trick, for a second later Emma is happily chugging the drink from the glass. Her mother warns her to drink slower, which is ignored, until she repeats her name a litter sterner once more.

 

Emma has a little bit of an attitude, Bucky notices throughout the day. But, it doesn’t seem anything beyond what is normal for four-year olds; from what he remembers from his little sister, all kids go through these phases. So he isn’t really too worried. Darcy seems a little less at ease, and he makes a mental note of talking to her about it this evening after Emma’s gone to bed.

 

Darcy is good with Emma, a natural even. But sometimes he can see the little cracks in her masks; see the worry and self-doubt shine through as her smile lightly falters. He wants to reassure her, because she is handling this whole fucked up situation amazingly.

 

Within a day, Bucky has become in awe of Darcy. 

  

* * *

 

That evening, after tucking Emma into bed, Darcy and Bucky talk.

 

Except, they don’t. They are exhausted from a day with a hyper toddler, where she dragged them all over the compound. She made them play catch for over _two_ hours, and she insisted on multiple bedtime stories, before finally succumbing to sleep.

 

So, they slump on the couch.

 

“This is hard,” Darcy says.

 

He is a goddamn super soldier with increased stamina, and he agrees. He is honestly amazed that Darcy is still fucking awake. She looks worse for wear; gorgeous, but her eye-bags are dark and telling.

 

“Yeah. It is.”

 

“Can I?” Darcy yawns, pointing at his shoulder. His _metal_ shoulder.

 

“Oh, I don – ”

 

Darcy is already curling into his side, like a worn out little kitten. Her head is resting just a little below his shoulder, where there is still metal instead of skin.

 

Comfortable; he was going to say that it wasn’t comfortable. But Darcy seems completely content. Bucky curls his arm around her, moving to play with a lock of her hair.

 

“Night,” Bucky says smiling.

 

* * *

 

Thor dragged Jane out of her laboratory at 10 in the evening, insisting that she had a proper meal and night of sleep. Jane had been too exhausted to argue.

 

But during dinner, he notices, and she curses herself at the mistake. Because Thor will always be able to tell.

 

“My love, what troubles you?” Thor asks.

 

“Nothing, babe,” Jane responds casually.

 

Thor grabs both her hands from across the table, alarming Jane to the fact that she must have missed casual by a mile and that he sees right through her. Thor is taking this _very_ seriously if he abandoned his food for her.  

 

“Jane.”

 

_Oh oh, just her name. Fuck._

“Tell me, Jane, for I cannot help you if you do not share your burdens with me. And I wish to help you, my love. With anything.” He adds sincerely.

 

Sly bastard, he is so good at this, Jane thinks. And she is exhausted. She simply doesn’t have the energy to hide this from Thor. She just wants to climb in his lab and sob. So, she does.

 

It took her a while to let her guard down around Thor like this, always having seen such acts as a sign of weakness. But she has realized over the last years that is it a sign of strength. It’s good, nice, to know that someone’s got you like this.

 

“Jane, shhh, it’s alright,” he croons while stroking her hair. Jane feels his lips softly press against her forehead and fresh tears escape her.

 

“Emma,” Jane says between sobs, and she reaches into her pocket to reveal a simple necklace. A small charm in the shape of a butterfly dangles from it. “She, she – I lied.”

 

“Whatever do you mean, Jane?”

 

“I’m not working on getting her home. I’m –”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I know what happened to her. She can’t go back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends. 
> 
> It’s been a while, I know. Real life got in the way. Please know I have no intention of abandoning this story. Like, ever. Updates might be less frequent, but this story is very much always in the back of my mind. I’ve fixed the outline and the amount of chapters this story will have has increased. To how many I am unsure at the moment. 
> 
> The next chapter has already been partly written, so, please bear with me and have hope; more fluff and angst and actual plot is on the way. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos and hits and comments. It made my heart positively soar. I appreciate each and every one of you, and know that it is partly what keeps me going. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Until next time!


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